Hatred is Harder to Bear

-Wujjawoo-

Standard Disclaimers Apply

A/N: So...4 and a half years since my last update...sorry!

oOoOo

You may not believe until you see, but you cannot see until you believe.

oOoOo

No amount of creativity could help Harry come up with a story to justify what he had just witnessed in Knockturn Alley. After all, famous wizards like Dumbledore did not naively or unintentionally cast spells to avoid being seen, nor did they accidentally wonder down Knockturn Alley or frequent stores of a questionable nature. And the store into which Dumbledore had wondered, which appeared not to have a name at all, certainly seemed to be of a questionable nature.

Harry wished that he could have followed Dumbledore in; would have given anything to know what business he had in an area of Knockturn Alley that was more secluded even than Borgin and Burkes, but Dumbledore would surely have noticed him. He considered a glamour, but this was no innocent place where people would not be on the lookout for such deception.

Instead, Harry had to be content with skulking in the shadows and waiting until Dumbledore emerged, some thirty minutes later, tucking something wrapped in a loose black material deep into his robes. Whatever it was, it was small, maybe a book or a small box, but there was no well Harry could tell anything more, and even that was a vague guess.

Dumbledore stepped off down the street in the direction of Diagon Alley, and Harry faced a moment of indecision. Should he follow Dumbledore, or should he go into the shop? He could always come back, but he had to get back to Spinner's End soon, and he doubted he would get another opportunity to come back to Diagon Alley before returning to Hogwarts. With a huff, Harry stalked out of the shadows and across the street, coming to a stop outside the shopfront. It was quite ordinary – a window and a door, but the mantel above the door was devoid of any sign and the window was made of a glass so dark that it was impossible to see through.

Harry steeled himself and pushed open the door. It was not what he had expected. Almost-bare shelves lined the walls, with only a few curious objects upon them. Harry couldn't be sure whether they were simply there for decoration or whether they were for sale. As he stood looking around for a clue as to what the shop sold, a man emerged from the back room of the shop. As the curtain swung closed behind him, Harry glimpsed a rather fancy and quite cosy looking sitting room with plush red chairs.

"Can I help you?" the man asked sharply, looking at Harry suspiciously. Harry thought his voice sounded familiar, and wondered if he had made a mistake coming here.

"Er – no, thanks," said Harry. "Just looking."

It was a pitiful excuse. The man glared at him.

"Young men do not simply wander into shops in Knockturn Alley browsing," said the man. "Evidently you have no idea what we do here, and as such I must ask you to leave. Your business does not lie here."

Unfortunately, Harry had to agree, and was rather glad for the chance to escape. He hurried out, walking fast all the way back to Diagon Alley. Pushing roughly into the crowd, he found himself face-to-face with Ernie MacMillan, whose shopping he had just knocked to the ground in his haste. With a start Harry realised that of course there would be people here; it was term break, and everyone would be on holiday.

Ernie glared and eyed him suspiciously before looking down Knockturn Alley and back to Harry, but seemed somewhat placated when Harry stuttered an apology and helped him pick up his thinks. He almost gave himself away by calling Ernie by name, but thankfully remembered just in time. His heart was pounding. This was the first time anyone but Dumbledore and Snape had seen his true appearance, and he hadn't realised how strange it would be. He felt as though Ernie could see right through him, and tell he wasn't who he was pretending to be.

"Sorry again," said Harry, and headed off with a nod.

"No worries mate," came Ernie's dubious reply. Maybe he was trying to decide whether or not Harry had actually come out of Knockturn Alley.

The thought of holidays and the looming presence of the new school term had done a good job of destroying Harry's cheerful mood, and he decided that the day would not be improved any further. He didn't want to risk running into anyone he might know better than Ernie, so headed back to Spinners End.

oOoOo

The crash course in French from Snape saw Harry develop a better than basic understanding of the language, though he doubted he would be able to fool anyone who tried to speak to him in French. He hoped they didn't. Perhaps he would just say that his mother spoke English at home. He found that he very much enjoyed Arithmancy, though Snape said he was rubbish at it, and he thought that Ancient Runes, though interesting, was going to be quite useless.

Snape's attitude toward him had not changed; however he seemed calmer now. While far from friendly and quick to chastise when Harry did something wrong, he no longer had a venomous word to say to every comment Harry made. He supposed it made their living together easier, and supposed things would go back to how they had always been once they returned to Hogwarts.

On Saturday morning, Snape announced that it was time to catch the train back to Hogwarts. Harry, never having gone on term break before, had completely forgotten what day it was, and was dreading the train ride.

"Can't I just go back with you?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course not, Potter! You are simply another student. Draco will also be going back on the train. We will be collecting him and you will go together to Kings Cross."

Harry scrunched up his nose at the thought of having to talk to Malfoy, and he could tell that Snape knew.

"You have to stop calling me Potter, you know," said Harry. "It's Alex now, remember?"

He left the room without waiting for Snape's reply and went to pack.

oOoOo

As Harry levitated his trunk into the lounge in preparation for leaving, he wondered where Malfoy was staying. He obviously wouldn't have been returning to the Malfoy home, given that it was under Ministry investigation. Harry went back to his room and checked that he had everything. With a sigh he turned to Hedwig in the corner.

"Well, girl, I guess this is it for while," he said, stroking her snowy feathers. "You're going to go live with Ron for a bit, OK? You have to pretend you don't know me if you see me."

Hedwig cooed in protest, ruffling her feathers in agitation.

"I know," sighed Harry. "I don't like it any better than you do. But I won't be far, I just can't use you as my owl anymore."

He scrawled a note to Ron, explaining that he couldn't keep Hedwig anymore, and that he needed Ron to look after her, and then she was gone. Harry felt like his last bit of hope was flying out of the window with her.

"Potter!" Snape called. Harry hurried out to where Snape waited with what was obviously a Portkey. Harry reached out and grabbed a hold, and with a jerk they left Spinners End. Seconds later, Harry's feet hit grass, and he steadied himself and looked around. They appeared to be standing on a nature strip of sorts, with high trees on either side. Off to the left, Harry could glimpse houses through the tree line.

"Where are we?" asked Harry in surprise. "Is this a Muggle area?"

"Yes," replied Snape. "There are many Muggles here, so no magic." He didn't say where they were. They started off through the trees, Harry dragging his trunk with difficulty. Snape had to keep stopping and waiting for him, and Harry could tell he was not happy.

Once they had passed through the trees, Snape led him down a path between two houses and into the street. Harry looked around him, somewhat impressed. The whole street was rather impressive, large houses on large blocks of land spread far into the distance, most looking out onto an impressive view from their perch on the hill. Snape, not stopping to admire anything, turned right and headed uphill for some way before turning into the driveway of a large white house with a blue roof. Neatly pruned bushes bordered the perfect lawn, and Harry got a string impression of the Dursleys. Snape pulled a key from his pocket and opened the front door; Harry followed him in and was rewarded with a view of a grand entrance hall.

The house wasn't huge, but it certainly was impressive, and Harry could tell that whoever lived here had a lot of money.

"Whose house is this?" he asked in awe. He imagined that it was somewhere that a Malfoy might live, and then suddenly wondered if it was Malfoy Manor. "This isn't Malfoy's house is it?" he blurted out.

"Keep your voice down, A- Alexander!" he stumbled over the name and Harry felt his cheeks flame. "This was my mother's home. I rarely use it, it is too big for my needs."

Harry didn't think that was why Snape didn't use it. If he'd had a house this big he would certainly not be worrying that it was too big for one person. Snape continued on.

"Draco has been staying here. Come, we will go find him."

Harry dropped his trunk and followed Snape up a sweeping staircase and into a bedroom. It was obviously Malfoy's – A large unmade bed sat in the centre with a packed trunk ready to go at its foot. Harry went to the window and saw a magnificent view; beyond the nature strip was a lake. The backyard was huge, and as Harry looked, a second later, Malfoye came diving out of the sky on his broom.

"Professor!" exclaimed Harry. "Malfoy is on his broom! What if someone sees him?"

"Relax, Alexander," said Snape lazily, moving to the window. "The backyard is charmed. I gave him permission." He signalled Malfoy form the window, and a second later Malfoy alighted upon the window sill and jumped through into the room, his hair windblown and his cheeks pink. Harry felt a swoop of jealousy.

"Draco," Snape smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I trust you have been well?"

Malfoy nodded, smiling, an expression Harry rarely saw on his face. He turned to Harry.

"So you're Alex, then?" he asked, extending his hand, his face interested and friendly.

Harry took his hand out of surprise, shaking it. "Yes – hi. Draco..."

Snape looked on, an unidentifiable look on his face.

"Yes," he said. "Draco, Alexander. Alexander, Draco. Unfortunately I am in somewhat of a hurry today so I must send you on your way. Draco, you know where the Floo powder is? I will see you both at school."

Without further ado, he once more clasped Malfoy on the shoulder and left, his robes swirling about his ankles.

Suddenly, Harry was angry. Jealous and angry. How could Snape care for Draco so much; Draco, who was malevolent and nasty and hated anyone who wasn't rich or pureblood. How could Snape care for him and not for Harry, his own son? He had allowed Malfoy to stay in this fine house, with huge, comfortable rooms and good food and Quidditch, while Harry had been forced to remain cooped up in dismal Spinners End for weeks.

"Are you OK?" asked Malfoy uncertainly, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Yes, sorry," said Harry. "Nervous, I guess, I've never been to school before."

Malfoy laughed.

"Don't worry Alex, I'll show you around. You'll be sorted into Slytherin, obviously, so I'll keep an eye on you."

"Great," said Harry, though he really didn't mean it. Inside he was fuming. He hadn't realised how much he could hate Malfoy. Malfoy, however, seemed to find the fact that he now had an adoptive cousin quite fascinating, and wouldn't stop talking and asking questions. If it hadn't been Malfoy Harry would have been flattered, would even have enjoyed the company. How different people could be around their friends, he thought.

The two of them gathered up Malfoy's things and carried them downstairs to the fireplace. Harry's trunk had been moved and was already waiting there. He wondered who had done it, thinking surely not Snape, before realising that there was probably a house elf or two running around this massive home.

Malfoy went first, taking a handful of Floo Powder and yelling "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!" before disappearing in a rush of warm air. Harry followed suit, feeling as he stepped into the fireplace that he was stepping into his next life. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

oOoOo

A/N: I've just started writing on this account again after about 4 years (I finally have a break from uni and I'm not being slack), and I was re-reading some of my older stories and decided that in some of them, my writing is rubbish! I always knew when I was writing some of them that I wasn't really in to that I was rushing it a bit, but I didn't realise they were that bad! I promise not to let that happen to this story!